


Cars Don't Talk Back

by mysticanni



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Declarations Of Love, Driving, Drunk Driving, Friendship, Hangover, Happy Ending, M/M, Minor Violence, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:34:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26070475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysticanni/pseuds/mysticanni
Summary: When John loses his licence for driving while drunk he has to rely on the others to drive him places.
Relationships: John Deacon/Roger Taylor
Comments: 12
Kudos: 39





	Cars Don't Talk Back

His coffee was black and bitter to match his mood and his regrets. There was a dark sludge at the bottom of the cup to match his clogged brain.

He poured himself another cup. Moving was painful – his head was being cracked open and his stomach lurched. 

He settled back into the nest of cushions and blankets he had made, slumped on the sofa and stared listlessly at the advert playing on the television. He was being urged to purchase a mop. Not just any old mop – this mop was actually a fully integrated cleaning system – whatever that meant. It would clean his entire house to a shine.

He snorted. He had a cleaner to clean his house to a shine – one of the perks of being rich. The mop boasted a sturdy and innovative design unlike his brittle, fragile, sorry carcass. 

The hangover was brutal. 

Would the mop clean the murky corners of his soul to a gleaming sparkle? Could it wash away the shame he felt about what had happened the night before?

Until the night before he had not had an alcoholic drink for two months. He had been boasting about how good he felt – he’d had more energy – clearer skin – a clearer mind. 

He hadn’t even had all that much to drink, really. There had been a time when last night’s consumption would have made him tipsy at best rather than spectacularly drunk.

Which probably wasn’t that great, was it? And look what had happened now.

He sighed deeply. The television chirpily offered him a magical mattress that would give him the best night’s sleep ever. The mattress would cure insomnia and back pain or he could have his money back. He thought of the sleepless night he had just spent in a little prison cell with a thin mattress that was apparently designed to torture – a punishment for your crimes. 

A fine – points on his driving licence – banned from driving for six months.

He loved driving. He’d always liked being in cars. When they had gone on family outings to the seaside he had sat in the back next to his sister and pretended he was gripping an imaginary steering wheel, glancing at his father’s strong capable hands on the real steering wheel. 

When he had passed his driving test the feeling of freedom had been intoxicating. He liked to drive fast. His licence had already had a smattering of points for speeding. Driving was exhilarating.

But now he had foolishly driven while he was ‘under the influence’ and (quite rightly, he knew) he could no longer drive himself anywhere. 

He sipped his coffee and reflected miserably that at least he had not hurt a person. He had damaged the car startlingly badly once he had seen it in the cold light of day but he had not hurt anyone else. And he did not have a scratch on him.

That wasn’t entirely true, though, was it, his thoughts whispered. He may not have hurt anyone with the car but he had managed to hit Roger by accident when Roger had tried to prise the car keys out of his hand. It was a hazy memory filtered through a mix of cocktails, beer and shots.

The telephone rang, startling him. Coffee slopped onto his thin pyjama trousers and he mopped at it ineffectively with the blanket. He set the mug down with a shaking hand, creating a further tidal wave of liquid over the edges of the mug and creating a pool on the appropriately named coffee table. He picked up the receiver and found his voice was a hoarse croak. “Lo,” he managed to mumble.

“John,” the voice on the other end sounded relieved. Roger, he realised with a pang of shame. “Are you okay? Miami said you crashed your car. Are you hurt?”

Tears filled his eyes at this unexpected kindness from someone he had behaved disgracefully towards the night before. “I’m sorry,” he gulped. “I’m okay,” he added.

“I’m coming over,” Roger told him and John thought he could hear other voices in the background and sighed. Roger coming over would be one thing but everyone arriving seemed more likely and was quite another. 

*

As predicted Roger arrived with Freddie, Brian and Crystal trailing after him. Freddie held John at arm’s length, examining him carefully. “You’re not injured, dear?”

He shook his head. “Just feel like an idiot,” he mumbled, “And the car is a write-off.” 

Roger winced. “Sorry to hear that,” he offered.

John laughed. “Trust you to be worried about the car!” He regretted it immediately as a hurt look flitted across Roger’s face. 

Roger’s bruised face. 

Roger was sporting a black eye courtesy of John’s flailing fist and a cut cheek which John thought the car keys had caused -the car keys wielded by John of course in his drunken petulant fit. He stretched his hand out towards Roger’s injuries feeling a surge of shame. “Sorry,” he croaked, finding himself forced to step back as a glowering Crystal inserted himself between John and Roger.

“But no one was hurt?” Brian clarified.

That was debatable, John thought, peering at Roger around Crystal. He shook his head which pounded. His stomach was in turmoil and he sped towards the bathroom - a dark eruption of coffee and bile spilling onto the tiled floor before he could quite reach the toilet bowl. So near. And yet. So far. 

*

Freddie ran him a bath in the bathroom adjoining his bedroom. He remarked on the “sad lack of bubbles, dear, you really should have more bubble baths in your life – they’re marvellous.” Freddie provided a fizzing glass of water with a re-hydration sachet poured into it. He left fresh pyjamas on the bed for John to change into once he had bathed. 

Roger was also sitting on the bed when John shuffled out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel. “I am worried about you,” Roger told him quickly when he saw John. “I’m sorry if I sounded flippant, I didn’t mean to.”

And now Roger was apologising to John for yet another thing John had done to upset Roger. Wonderful. He was exhausted and felt empty inside. He did not have the capacity to deal with Roger just now. He waved his hand wearily and muttered that it was okay, experiencing a stab of guilt as Roger’s face brightened. Roger told him he would let him get dressed in peace and vanished. 

*

When John emerged from the safe haven of his bedroom he discovered that Crystal had mopped up his vomit from the downstairs bathroom and cleaned up the coffee spillage. And all without the benefit of a super mop with an integrated cleaning system. Perhaps Crystal was an integrated cleaning system. “You didn’t have to do that,” he mumbled. 

Crystal shrugged. “Someone had to,” he stated.

Crystal was plainly annoyed with him for Mistreatment of Roger. A far worse crime in Crystal’s book than driving while drunk, John thought. John didn’t blame him for his anger. “I’d have got round to it eventually,” he sighed. Crystal had tidied up his nest he noted which he supposed he deserved. He collapsed weakly onto the sofa.

Brian cleared his throat and John braced himself for The Talk. He decided to try to pre-empt it. “Look,” he sighed, “I’m sorry if I worried you. I’m very ashamed of what I did last night. I never intend to drink again so it shouldn’t be a problem in future. Okay?” 

“We’re just worried about you,” Brian said gently. “You didn’t seem yourself last night. Something seems to have been troubling you for a while now. We only want to help, if we can.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” John objected. “I’m fine. I just had too much to drink, that’s all and I behaved like a dick – which I apologise for - but we’ve all done that, haven’t we?”

There was a long and not particularly comfortable silence. “Well,” Freddie said too-brightly eventually, “as long as you’re okay, darling, we’ll leave you in peace.” 

Roger, who had not said anything, gave him a hug and kissed his cheek before he left and somehow that felt worse than anything else. 

*

Brian was a bad mixture of a cautious and anxious driver and a man easily distracted by his own thoughts which he had a tendency to get lost in. John sometimes thought he was oblivious to the world around him. 

When Brian was giving him a lift John often found his hand was gripping the door handle so tightly his knuckles were white. He spent a lot of time on each trip biting his lip.

He was alarmed by how much Brian looked at him rather than the road when he was speaking to him although he also suspected that having another person in the car grounded Brian in the moment and made him marginally more observant than he might otherwise have been. John found the thought of Brian driving alone too scary to contemplate. He found it almost unbelievable that Brian had a clean driving licence.

It was around the third time Brian picked him up that he said, “So, are you ever going to tell Roger how you feel about him?”

John’s first reaction was to deny everything. “I don’t know what you mean.” This was followed by utter panic – if Brian had noticed that he had Feelings for Roger – Brian, of all people – then did that mean everyone knew?

Brian gave him a knowing look. 

“Mind that woman on the bike,” John cried.

“I see her,” Brian replied testily. John was thankful that he did not return to the subject of Roger. 

*

Freddie couldn’t drive so when he gave John a lift they gossiped in the back of the car while they were chauffeured around. John usually enjoyed those trips until the morning when Freddie said, “Now, darling, don’t you think it’s time you stopped pining for Roggie and asked him out on a date?”

“Uh...” John gaped at Freddie and tried to think of a suitable response. In the end he said the one word that was hammering through his head. “No?”

“Oh, really, Deaky, you’ve been miserable for months - sighing and moping about. I think you’ll feel much better if you just tell him,” Freddie scolded him. 

“But...What about the band?” John asked.

Freddie shrugged. “Our friendship and the band can survive anything, I promise you.”

John wasn’t so sure and it wasn’t a risk he felt he could take. 

*

He had deliberately told Roger there was no need for him to go out of his way to pick John up. It was true that it was easier for the other two to collect him if necessary. Brian had laughed. “I’m not surprised you don’t want Rog to drive you – careering round corners with someone practically blind at the wheel isn’t my idea of fun!”

“It’s not your driving, Rog,” John had protested truthfully but feebly. He knew he’d hurt Roger’s feelings yet again but the thought of having to spend time close to Roger at the moment was...well...he just couldn’t do it and that was all there was to it.

“I am normally the one driving,” Crystal had growled, scowling at John. John had definitely not been forgiven for thumping Roger which he totally understood. “Something you want to say about my driving skills?”

“This isn’t about anyone’s driving,” John had sighed. “It’s not practical for either of you to pick me up.” 

*

Miami had arrived on one wet morning much to John’s surprise. “Brian forgot he had a dental appointment first thing,” he explained as John hopped in to his warm and cosy car, soaked and shivering just from dashing from the house.

“Thanks,” John said. “I know it isn’t very convenient for anyone having to collect me.”

“You’d do it for any of us if we needed you to,” Miami pointed out. He changed gears smoothly and said, “Perhaps you should tell him how you feel.”

John froze. He must have heard wrong. “Pardon?”

“I said that perhaps you should tell him how you feel,” Miami suggested, executing a perfect right hand turn. 

“Tell who?” John challenged him sulkily – although he was already resigning himself to the fact that everyone in the entire world apparently knew that he was in love with Roger. 

“You may not recall all of the things you said or did on the night you lost your driving licence,” Miami told him, “but I’m afraid it was perfectly obvious to everyone present, with the possible exception of Roger, that you are in love with him.”

John spluttered, trying to form words that would not come out of a jumble of incoherent thoughts that refused to sort themselves into any kind of order. “I...He...You...Obvious?” he gasped. “I hit him,” he added miserably. 

“Yes,” Miami sighed. “That was unfortunate. You know, you might receive a more positive reaction than you seem to expect.”

“But he...I...and the band...if...No,” John shook his head. “No,” he repeated. 

There was silence for the remainder of the drive.

*

“Hop in, then,” Crystal said impatiently as John stared at him from the doorstep.

“I...What...Um...Freddie was picking me up?” John gabbled. 

“One of the cats is ill. Roger is accompanying Freddie on the emergency trip to the vet,” Crystal explained, “so in you get.”

John reluctantly slid onto the passenger seat of the car. Other than Roger if there was one person he didn’t want to be forced into conversation with in a small space it would be Crystal. Roger promised an unbearable bewildering mix of guilt and adoration and need. Crystal threatened a much deserved tongue-lashing.

It was a warm sunny morning and Crystal had the top down. The wind whipped John’s hair away from his face as they drove and John had to admit that he enjoyed the sensation, was enjoying the ride. Crystal didn’t seem inclined to talk and John began to relax.

“You’re supposed to buy a dog,” Crystal said after a while which was so unexpected that John simply stared at him for a moment. “I read it in the problem page of a magazine,” Crystal said, flushing a little as he apparently belatedly realised he had just confessed to reading the problem pages of magazines, “that Rog had left lying around,” he added slightly defensively. “Anyway, the answer to everything is – get a dog.”

“The answer to everything is ‘get a dog’?” John repeated.

“Yes,” Crystal nodded. “Worried about your weight? Getting a dog will ensure you get some exercise! You’re lonely? A dog will keep you company. Need to feel wanted? Your dog will adore everything you do for him! Feel unsafe? Your dog will protect you. Dogs show you affection and they’ll listen when you talk to them. The answer to everything is – get a dog!”

John considered this. “And you’re recommending that I should get a dog to solve what, exactly?” he asked, regretting it even as the words left his mouth.

“I’m afraid it might be too late in your case,” Crystal informed him solemnly. “For you I would prescribe telling Rog you love him. If he turns you down then you can get a dog for comfort.”

They both laughed. John eventually wheezed, “That’s Doctor Crystal’s advice is it?”

“Yeah,” Crystal neatly parked the car. “You won’t need a dog, though. At least, you won’t need one for comfort when he rejects you.” As John unclipped his seatbelt Crystal added, “You ever hit him again and I will murder you – you hear me?”

John nodded. “I am very sorry about that.”

Crystal shook his head. “It’s not me you need to apologise to. And you will treat him like a fucking God or you will be answerable to me. You will also not tell him I said any of this if you value your life.”

John nodded again. “I understand.” Hope flared within him. “You think...?”

“He talks about you endlessly. But he’s an idiot. He has no idea. You’re gonna have to spell it out for him.” The car top whirred and clicked back into place and Crystal rolled his eyes. “You two are gonna be the death of me,” he muttered. 

*

The ailing cat, Tom, had been diagnosed with cat flu and Freddie had taken time off to care for his “poor darling” so they were all having a few days break which meant John wasn’t expecting anyone to arrive the following morning to pick him up. He peered out of the window as he heard a car in the driveway. It was one of Roger’s, he noticed, going to open the door, feeling his heart beating faster. 

“I don’t need a lift,” he said, stupidly, hating himself, as he opened the door. 

“No,” Roger agreed, “I wasn’t actually offering one. I thought maybe we could spend some time together? Only if you want to of course – I haven’t seen much of you since...” Roger looked lost. His eyes were searching John’s face.

“Uh...That’d be lovely. Come in.” John stood aside to allow Roger to enter, inhaling sharply as Roger brushed past him – Roger’s fresh citrusy scent enveloped him – he longed to touch him, to ruffle Roger’s hair and feel how soft it was – to kiss his lips and savour their warmth.

Of course as soon as he had closed the front door Roger folded him into a hug and John was startled to realise that they had not been hugging – despite hugging being something that seemed to come as naturally to Roger as breathing. But he had been avoiding Roger. Now, he melted into his embrace. “What’s wrong, Deaks?” Roger murmured into his ear. “And don’t tell me nothing’s wrong - you haven’t been yourself for a while now.” 

“Yes...Well...No...” John sighed. “You.”

“Me?” Roger sounded horrified. “What have I done?”

“Nothing. And everything. I love you,” John confessed.

“Oh,” Roger breathed. His face brightened. “Well, that’s perfect!” He kissed John. “I love you, too!”

*

The sheets were twisted around their hips and John was twisting a lock of Roger’s bright hair around his finger.

“I am so sorry that I hit you,” John said, his cheeks flushing with shame.

“You didn’t mean to,” Roger said, “You were drunk and trying to keep your keys. It was an accident. It’s okay.” He kissed John. “I forgive you.”

“You’re probably too kind and forgive too easily,” John told him, frowning. He was going to protect Roger from all the evil in the world. 

“I could punish you, if you feel you need that,” Roger suggested, looking the picture of innocence with his blue eyes open wide.

John hummed appreciatively. “Perhaps we could discuss that later,” he murmured, peppering Roger’s face with little kisses. “You know, everyone seems to have known that I love you,” he added.

Roger blushed. “Um...Yeah...Um...Me too...Crystal says Ratty was taking bets on whether or not I would ever tell you how I felt...”

“They’re all wankers,” John grumbled. 

“True,” Roger agreed, “but looking on the bright side I think Prenter might have lost money.” They both cackled with laughter at the thought. “I’ve missed properly talking with you,” Roger sighed. 

“Yeah,” John gently stroked Roger’s hair. “I’ve been a fool, I know.”

“So have I,” Roger agreed. He kissed John again. “We’ll just have to make up for lost time now.” 

John agreed that they would. “Just as well you like driving too,” he laughed. “I need a chauffeur as well as a lover.”

Roger smiled. “There, you see, I’m perfect for you.”


End file.
